


light up your wildest dreams

by blindinglights



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Figure Skater Eric "Bitty" Bittle, Fluff, M/M, Olympics, flirting disguised as banter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-06-04 19:30:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15154055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blindinglights/pseuds/blindinglights
Summary: Kent’s supposed to do commentary on pairs skating during the Olympics. The only downside right now is the fact that he’ll be doing it with Eric Bittle. Now, he doesn’t have a problem with Eric. But for some reason, Eric doesn’t seem to like him.





	light up your wildest dreams

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pinkerton](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pinkerton/gifts).



> Hi, pinkerton! I hope you like this! I tried to go based off one of your prompts the best I could. 
> 
> As for the fic, research was done, but then in the end I had to do a little bit of handwaving (since things overlap a little). I had 2018 Olympics in mind. However, it does not play out like the actual 2018 Olympics (for a few reasons). But that's the year I based it in. 
> 
> Thanks to my betas for the help!

Kent’s supposed to do commentary on pairs skating during the Olympics. Which is fine, because he loves ice skating, and has ever since his sister started skating when he was a kid. It’s pretty much half the reason Kent started skating in the first place, because his sister was a figure skater. And then Kent had found hockey, and the rest is just history. 

The only downside right now is the fact that he’ll be doing it with Eric Bittle. Now, he doesn’t have a problem with Eric. He pretty much thinks the guy is amazing. He watched Eric do his routines for both men's programs and he’s watched him compete on TV at figure skating competitions many times. Not to mention that Eric is beautiful; not just in the way he looks, but also the way he moves across the ice when he skates. There’s just something about him that draws Kent to him. But for some reason, Eric doesn’t seem to like him. Which hey, is also fine, since Kent’s a little bit used to that. But he figured Eric would be a little bit nicer. Or maybe that was mostly just Kent’s wishful thinking.

It was probably just that, Kent thinks. 

He sighs as he makes his way up the stairs, where the podium is for the commentators. Down below, he can see the pairs skaters warming up. When he looks back at where their seats are located, Eric’s already there, legs crossed, and all of his attention on his phone like Kent doesn’t even exist.

“Hey,” Kent greets, as he plops down in the seat beside Eric. “You ready for this?”

Eric looks up, but doesn’t say anything. 

“Okay,” Kent says slowly, relaxing back in his chair. “This should be fun.”

At that, Eric lets out a snort of disbelief. Kent sighs again, and moves his attention back down at the skaters getting ready. They’re all in various frilly bright outfits, some that look ridiculous, versus some that look amazing. Eventually, the TV crew is finished with set up and someone sits down in the third seat, to oversee everything. Kent glances over at Eric, who seems to have put on a media face for the television crew and he’s actually smiling now. It’s bright, happy, and while Kent knows that Eric may not be happy to be doing this with Kent for some unknown reason, his smile doesn’t really look forced. Afterall, it’s figure skating they’re commentating on, so Kent’s sure that Eric’s excited to be able to be on live television talking about the couples skating that’ll be happening down below. 

Kent sits back and lets the television crews fuss with getting a mic set up on him. This’ll be fine. It’ll be fun. He knows this. They’ll make it work, somehow. It’s not like he hasn’t worked with someone that’s disliked him before. It’s a more common occurrence than he’d preferably like, but he can make it work.

Once they start, Kent expects it to be a little awkward until they can find their footing, but it’s surprisingly easy to just watch the first pair skate. He’s always liked watching them skate out there, remembers when his sister tried doing pairs for a little bit when she was in high school before she had decided that solo was a lot better for her. 

“That was beautiful,” Eric breathes out, right when the girl is lifted in the air and then falls back down perfectly onto the ice. It’s a smooth transition from each movement, and the girl immediately goes into a combination spin and then meets her partner again.

“The way he effortlessly lifted her up,” Kent adds on. “That was great.” 

Eric’s eyes cut over to him before looking back at the skaters. “He didn’t even falter when he caught her, perfect.”

The next set of skaters is when things change. It starts off just the same, but then Kent says, “I liked that.”

“He messed up,” Eric points out. “When he did his double axel? He didn’t land correctly.”

“I think it looked okay,” Kent says. “It was too quick to notice if he did falter it.”

“You play _hockey_.” Eric rolls his eyes. 

“I know enough.”

“Do you?” 

“Look, right there, he landed that.” 

“Okay,” Eric says, nodding. “He did land that one perfectly, and that was a good transition there. Much better.” 

“He should’ve reeled that in a little,” Kent comments. “Looked almost like it was forcing it too much and his partner looked a little frazzled.”

“They looked great, very natural, fluid movements on the ice together.”

“They made it work in the end. It started off rocky, but they eventually made it work.” 

Eric sighs and grabs for his water as soon as there’s a commercial break. 

“This is great,” Kent says, rubbing the palms of his hands on his pants and trying to situate himself better on his seat. “Fun, right? To do this.”

“Fun,” Eric echoes. “Bless your heart.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Nothing,” Eric says. “I don’t know why they wanted you to do this with me.” 

“Bring someone in that’s different? Your guess is as good as mine.” 

“You’re a hockey player, and no expert in figure skating.”

“Gonna guess you’d prefer a celeb? But newsflash, they’re not well-versed in figure skating either.”

Eric grumbles something under his breath as soon as they’re told it’s coming back on. Kent smirks around the rim of his water bottle. Yeah, this is definitely fun. 

For the rest of pairs skating, it goes mostly like that, a back and forth of snark and sass that feels closer to flirting than anything else. Kent feels alive, watching how passionate and quick-witted Eric is.

Once it’s over, Kent pushes himself from his seat and says, “I had fun. But, just so you know, I know a thing or two about figure skating. My sister skated growing up, won some comps, actually.” 

Eric looks at him, surprised. “ _You_ know _something_?”

“Look my sister up, if you don’t believe me. Her name is Kate,” Kent tosses over his shoulder as he heads toward the exit. “There’s tons of videos on youtube. She’s pretty amazing. You’ll see.” 

If Eric says anything to that, Kent has no idea. He’s already out of the double doors that leads him out of the arena. 

\--

Hockey starts up. It feels like relief when he steps out onto the ice, the feel of it below his feet, the sound of his blades against the ice a comfort. He closes his eyes and relaxes his shoulders, taking a deep breath. Someone bumps against his shoulder, and Kent jerks forward slightly.

“Stop daydreaming, Parser,” Nate says. “We have hockey to play.” 

“Yeah,” Jake calls out. “Can’t win games if our captain is too busy sleeping.”

“Oh shut up,” Kent snaps playfully, pushing Jake away. 

Practice starts up and while Kent tries to put all thoughts of Eric away, he can’t help but thinking about their interactions the day before. It was fun talking with him. Eric’s pretty passionate about figure skating, and it’s an attractive quality. The way his hands moved while he spoke, the way Eric had so many quick replies to whatever Kent had said (especially to when Kent purposely tried to rile him up. It was hot, so screw him). They clicked in a way that Kent doesn’t usually do with anyone else. Sure, he gets along with his teammates, but that’s different. This was with someone he doesn’t know well, someone who didn’t have the same profession as he did. It was actually nice and fun, getting to do something different for a change and with someone like Eric. 

He really, really liked it. He liked Eric, most of all. 

But he needs to focus on playing hockey and not some cute figure skater that probably thinks Kent’s some asshole. 

\--

Kent spots him in the catering tent as he walks in. Eric’s in line for food, animatedly talking to the person that’s standing in front of him. Whatever they’re discussing has Eric grinning. So Kent gets in line behind him and doesn’t say anything. Eric’s so engrossed in his conversation that he doesn’t seem to know what’s going on around him, so much so that when he starts talking with his hands, he ends up hitting Kent in the chest.

Kent laughs, and it seems to startle Eric. 

“Oh,” Eric says, a slight blush to his face. “Sorry about that.”

“I didn’t mind,” Kent says. “You’re cute when you get all excited.”

Eric’s blush deepens. “It was about Beyoncé.”

“Beyoncé’s amazing,” Kent says. “Love her, although more of a Britney fan myself.” 

“Of course you like Britney.”

Kent cocks an eyebrow. “Is...that supposed to mean something? Have something against Miss Spears?”

Eric laughs at that. “No, no, but it makes sense.”

They move up in the line. There’s plenty of food for them to choose from, and they both start piling items onto their plate. It goes by quickly and before Kent knows it, they’re out of the line and looking out at the rows of tables set up. 

“So, dinner,” Kent trails off, looking around before settling his eyes back on Eric. “Do you want to hang out? Eat together? Unless you had plans with your friends.”

“No, um. You could join us if you want to?” Eric offers. 

Kent looks over at where there’s a few people waving at Eric. He knows a few of their names, but he doesn’t really know anyone. It _could_ be nice, and then he’d get to spend some time with Eric. “Okay, sure. Why not.”

\--

Kent hears about it from one of his teammates, who heard it from one of the equipment guys, that Eric Bittle was seen watching the game with a group from Team USA. He doesn’t know why Eric’s there, since the vibe Kent got from him was that he hated hockey. Or maybe it was that he just hated hockey players, and didn’t actually mind the sport (or have much interest in it, anyway). 

It leaves Kent feeling curious. He wonders if Eric’s is there because of _him_ , or maybe he’s only there because his group dragged him there. 

He doesn’t see Eric when he looks up during the start of his game against Germany. He ends up sneaking another peek up there during intermission, but still doesn’t spot him. It starts feeling ridiculous when he goes to look the third time, because he’s probably too far to really see anything to begin with. But just as he looks up, he spots Eric huddled in his sweater, his scarf tucked tightly around his neck, decked out in Team USA gear next to everyone else. There’s a tuft of blond hair sticking out of Eric’s toque. 

One of Kent’s teammates bumps into him as they go to leave the ice and it jerks Kent forward. 

“Why’d you stop, Cap?” 

Kent shakes his head as he makes his way off the ice. “It’s nothing.”

“We’re kicking ass out there,” Jake says. “Six to one, think we should make semis.”

“Don’t jinx us, asshole.”

“Hey, how am I gonna jinx a five goal lead, c’mon.” 

“You never know.”

“You’re being ridiculous, it’ll be fine.”

“Sure,” Kent says, shifting from left to right on his skates, waiting for the sign for them to head back out. “We’ll win this.”

\--

They make it to the semifinals. Jake throws it in his face that there was no way to jinx that huge of a lead. Kent rolls his eyes and deals with the chirping. Of course there wasn’t any way of losing that, but then again he’s seen weirder things happen during pro games. Sometimes puck luck can fuck you over that way, if it goes more toward your opponent. 

Kent and his teammates head out into the hallway, fully intent on heading to catering and then back to housing. He stops in his tracks when he spots a familiar face at the end of the hall. 

Eric’s talking with people Kent’s seen with him before, and now he’s thinking maybe they’re just other figure skaters. There’s one guy who is pretty much resting against Eric’s side as he looks down at whatever is on Eric’s phone. They’re both smiling and laughing, so Kent hesitates for a moment, deliberating about whether or not he should walk over. He doesn’t want to be rude, but he wants to talk to Eric. 

_Just go over there and talk to the cute boy, Kent_ , he tries to tell himself. _It’s fine_. 

“Hey, Eric.”

“Oh,” Eric says, looking up at him. “Hi.” His friend moves away and they make eye contact for a second, seemingly having a silent conversation, before all of Eric’s friends walk away. 

“So, been coming to the games?” 

Eric nods. 

“You enjoy yourself?” Kent asks. “Thought maybe hockey was beneath you, or something.”

“It’s not so bad,” Eric confesses. “I liked it actually?”

Kent smirks. “Really? Cool.”

“I had fun,” Eric says. “And you’re doing great. I don’t really get all the rules yet, but you’re winning games.” 

“Maybe when this over, I can teach you about hockey,” Kent offers. “Maybe drag you out on the ice one day.”

Eric smiles, something small and flirty, something just for Kent, if he wants to read into things. “Yeah, I think I’d like that, Kent.” 

Someone calls out Kent’s name, and he looks back to see one of his teammates waving for him to hurry up. “I have to go, but you should keep coming to the games.” 

“I will,” Eric promises. 

\--

They don’t make it to the gold medal game; they lose to Sweden and end up going for bronze. And then they end up winning the bronze medal, so at least its something, but it still manages to feel like defeat. The game was too close for Kent’s liking and it feels like they just barely managed to eke out that win. It doesn’t feel like they’ve won much of anything, and Kent still leaves the game feeling worn out and defeated. His teammates tell him they did good, that _he_ did good, and he makes sure to let them know as well. He goes through the motions of media, of whatever else they expect of him as captain of Team USA, and then he just…

Leaves the arena. Starts walking somewhere, no idea of where he’ll end up, but at least in a direction that he knows leads to somewhere. 

Winning bronze is one of those weird in-between things. He’s glad they didn’t place dead last, but at the same time he can’t help but feel like he failed because he wasn’t able to help his team get the gold medal. He feels like he failed everyone, even if deep down he knows realistically it’s a team effort. They all weren’t able to bring home that gold. It just feels awful. He should’ve been able to do it. This thought keeps running through his head until he realizes that he’s walked all the way back to the housing and that he’s standing in front of Eric’s door, his hand already poised to knock.

So he knocks.

Eric answers a few minutes later, wearing nothing but a soft worn Beyoncé shirt and low-slung sleep pants. His hair is in disarray and he looks sleep-soft. 

“Were you sleeping?” Kent asks, already ready to just leave. He shouldn’t be bothering Eric. He should be wallowing back at his room, drinking something strong and trying not to dwell on his mistakes, on his flaws, and failing miserably at it. “I’m sorry, I’ll just go, should just go--”

Eric must see something on his face, because next thing Kent knows, Eric is murmuring, “Oh honey,” and pulling Kent in for a hug. And it’s a good hug, one of those that immediately fills you with a sense of warmth, so much so that Kent finds himself clinging tighter to Eric as if he thinks it’ll help wipe away the feeling of defeat altogether.

“I’m such a failure,” Kent mumbles into Eric’s neck. “Couldn’t get gold, just barely managed to win bronze.” 

“You’re not,” Eric assures. “You’re a great hockey player. You did your best out there, I watched you. Sometimes we don’t win them all. And I know it sucks, honey. I’ve lost my share of comps. But there’ll be more chances to win another time.”

“You think so?” Kent asks as he pulls away. 

“I may not know much about hockey, but I watched a few games, you’re good.” 

Kent searches his eyes but doesn’t find him to be lying at all. He goes to say something else, but decides against it, instead leaning down the remaining distance and kissing Eric. 

Eric freezes at first and Kent’s half-afraid Eric’s going to reject him, but Eric combs a hand through the back of Kent’s hair and angles the kiss to his liking. And Kent just goes with it. Feeling like he’s finally found something tangible, something real, even if he doesn’t fully know what it is yet. So he just kisses Eric, backing him into the room and closing the door behind him and pushing him toward the couch. 

They don’t do much except for make out on the couch, legs entwined, until they decide on watching something on the television. Kent falls asleep with Eric lying on his chest and he wakes up feeling, not better--because it’s not as if he can just shake off the negative feelings he has about not winning gold--but he feels good, in a way.

Kent doesn’t linger at Eric’s room for long after he wakes up. Eric walks him to the door, though, and kisses him against it until Kent’s smiling into the kiss. 

“Thanks,” Kent murmurs into the kiss. “For being there for me last night. And the fooling around was a nice plus, not gonna lie.”

Eric smacks him against the chest, but he’s smiling. “Yeah, okay. It was nice.”

“I think you like me.”

“You’re not so bad,” Eric murmurs, pulling Kent in for another kiss.

Kent pulls away after a moment, reluctantly. “Should go, but I’ll see you later? At the closing ceremony?”

\--

They both have things they have to do to wrap up the Olympics before they’re attending the closing ceremony. Kent walks beside Eric in it, hands a hairbreadth apart; both of them smiling and waving at the crowd. Kent spends most of it reflecting on everything that’s happened, but enjoying living in the now and whatever’s going to come his way in the future. Beside him, Eric’s bundled in his clothes, his nose rosy from the cold. Kent wants to close the distance and hold his hand here, but he decides on nudging Eric instead.

When everything is over, Kent packs up his things and heads to the airport the next morning with all of his teammates. Eric’s in the airport lobby, his suitcase in one hand and his phone in another. Kent debates about it for a few minutes, but he feels like if he doesn’t say anything now, that it’ll end up being one of those moments he’ll regret. Because it feels like there’s something between them. If Kent closes his eyes, he could probably hear Swoops clearly telling him that he falls too fast for boys that’ll probably just end up breaking his heart.

Except he doesn’t think this is how it’ll end. He feels hopeful, positive about this. So Kent puts on his media facade of confidence and walks up to Eric, says, “Hey,” with a smirk on his face.

Eric looks up and smiles warmly. “Hey there.”

“So,” Kent says, taking his hat off and running a hand through his hair, putting his hat back on. He twists it around, and thinks, _just fucking say it you coward_. “I realize we didn’t exchange numbers back there and I think it’d be a shame to not have yours.”

“A shame? Really?” Eric asks, but he looks curious. Interested.

“Huge regret.”

“Should change that,” Eric says as he steps closer. He hands Kent his phone and then reaches into Kent’s back pocket, retrieving his phone and goes to enter in his number. “There,” he says as he finishes, placing the phone back in Kent’s pocket. “Now we can talk when we get back home.” 

When Kent hands Eric his phone back, their fingers brush. Instead of pulling away, Eric grabs Kent’s other hand and tugs him close, placing a kiss to his cheek. When Eric pulls away, he’s smiling. 

“Maybe I’ll visit you in Vegas,” Eric says. “Go watch you play, when I can.”

“Or you can watch me when we go play the Kings or Ducks next month.”

“Maybe both?” Eric rubs Kent’s hand, a soothing back and forth movement. “I have to go catch my flight, honey. But this was nice.”

Kent pulls him down for a real kiss, a quick press of lips before letting Eric walk away. He watches as Eric waves bye just before turning the corner toward his gate, and he thinks about how this might be the start of something good, and he can’t wait to find out. But for now, it’s back to the states and back to trying to get the Cup.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, they do end up together (if this seems open-ended at all). Maybe I'll write more fics in this 'verse later? We'll see. Anyway, thanks for reading! I'll link my tumblr once reveals happen. :)


End file.
